


Sixth Sense

by scouringsandstone



Category: The Professionals
Genre: 500 Words Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scouringsandstone/pseuds/scouringsandstone
Summary: Cowley always has had the worst possible timing





	

“He's doing it deliberately,” said Bodie, slamming the car door shut behind him. “He's got to be.”

He followed his partner up the steps into the building. The corridors were dark and deserted at that time of night, apart from old Fred Williams on the front desk, who waved them through. 

“Sends us home, only to haul us back here two hours later,” Bodie continued in hushed tones. “Every time we get a night to ourselves, he's on that phone... Got some sort of sixth sense, I'm telling you.”

“Let's hope not. Wouldn't do our careers much good if the old man turns out to be clairvoyant.”

They pressed on in silence. The stiff line of Doyle's shoulders was the only thing that betrayed his frustration at having their evening interrupted. 

“Next time,” said Bodie, as they neared Cowley's office, “We won't answer it.”

“Next time,” said Doyle, “I'm disconnecting the bloody line.”

Doyle thumped twice on the door and then barged in before Cowley had the chance to respond.

“Ah, Doyle. Bodie. Come in.” Cowley glanced up from his paperwork. “Turner's wife's gone into labour."

"What, already?"

"Aye, she's three weeks early. I need the pair of you to set up the Rutland operation and cover until Jax takes over at eight o'clock tomorrow morning.”

Bodie groaned. “Isn't there anyone else who can do it?” 

“If there were, do you think I'd have called you in?” Cowley removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take Scott's car - they've already loaded up the surveillance equipment.”

“Yes sir.”

Cowley replaced his glasses and regarded his agents. His eyes shifted from Bodie to Doyle and then back again. 

“Of course,” Cowley began, “It'll be double time and you can have tomorrow night off instead. I hope this hasn't spoiled your plans?”

Bodie glanced across at Doyle, but Doyle kept his eyes fixed firmly on the worn patch of carpet in front of him. 

“Uh... Nothing that can't be rescheduled,” said Bodie. 

“Glad to hear it,” said Cowley, tone serious, but an amusement in his eyes that belied it. “Now get out of here, the pair of you.”

“Sir,” they answered in unison. 

Doyle was out of the office like a shot. 

“Where're you off to in such a hurry?” asked Bodie, closing the door behind him and catching up with Doyle further along the corridor.

“Look down,” said Doyle.

“Eh?”

“Look down. Not down there! _Down!_ ”

Doyle jabbed Bodie in the chest and Bodie looked. There, barely discernible in the dim light, was Doyle's pale blue shirt, stretched out across his own body.

“Shit,” said Bodie, eyes darting across to his favourite white shirt - the one he had been wearing earlier that day - just visible beneath Doyle's leather jacket. 

“Yeah,” said Doyle. 

“How did we manage that?”

“Was dark, we were in a hurry...”

“Do you think the old man noticed?”

Doyle cocked his head and gave Bodie a withering look. “Well, I think we can rule out clairvoyance.”


End file.
